My go to guy
by KHwhitelion
Summary: He was always the one they went to, the one they relied on. The one who helped them with all their problems. But when HE needs help, who will HE turn to? JD angst


**Welcome!!!! Welcome to my first official Scrubs fic!!!!!**

**I say 'official' because I've been experimenting for a while with writing as the characters—trying to get a little more comfortable with the Scrubs style before attempting an actual one-shot. But it was well worth it, and I'm very happy to produce the piece you're about to read!!!!!**

**There were actually several things involved in coming up with this fic:**

**--I've been ridiculously obsessed with Scrubs lately—it's my favorite show after 'Heroes' and whenever I get obsessed with a fandom, I'm compelled to write about it. **

**--I'm currently in love with JD. Yes….it's sad, but true. And that, combined with the amount of Scrubs 'angst' fanfiction I've been reading….well, how could I NOT write something?**

**--and last but not least….I was re—heally (lol) bored in class. We weren't doing anything, just watching a video, and since I didn't have my sketchbook to entertain me, I decided to write this. **

**I'm so proud :D**

**Well, I hope you all enjoy it….please review….as my first Scrubs fic, I'm really interested in some feedback about what you all think!!!!!**

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When you work at a hospital as long as I have, people begin to stereotype you. For some—like the Todd, for example—it's the typical dimwitted surgeon, whose brains have been substituted with a scalpel, and whose daily motive is to see just how many dates he can score before his shift ends. Still, there are others, like the nurses, who are basically viewed as textbooks with legs; knowing everything about the various patients in the hospital, sometimes even more than their actual doctors do. Of course, there are always those who stand out even more so, such as nurse Carla Espinosa Turk—my close personal friend, and the dubbed 'mother' of Sacred Heart hospital; always there to either comfort or lecture you, depending on her mood.

Then, there's me: Doctor John Dorian. I've been labeled as the 'go-to' guy—the one people know they can rely on to get things done, and really take care of not only my own but their patients as well. Everyone I know seems to like me—whether it's my ability to smile through almost any situation; how I can easily sympathize with virtually anyone I meet….or maybe it's because I have the uncanny ability to withstand being called various girls' names several times a day without completely snapping. Whatever it is, I find that after almost a decade here at Sacred Heart, more and more people are drawn to me. To them, I'm some kind of escape—someone they can turn to when things get rough, because they know that if they're surrounded with this warmth….this ridiculous goofy nature I have….then whatever stress, pain or burden currently on their mind will temporarily take leave.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that; I love helping people out, I really do. But sometimes….I'm compelled to ask myself….

….what about _me_? Who do_ I_ turn toward when_ I_ have a problem? Who do _I_ look to to relieve _my_ burdens? _My_ stress?

_My pain_?

Where's _my_ go-to guy?

I'm still human, aren't I? I still feel just like everyone else, right? I have my fair share of problems that drag me down from time to time.

So why is it no one around me notices? When they look into my eyes, why can't they see me suffering? Do they really believe everything's alright in 'JD's little world?' Am I that great an actor?

….as flattering as that is, I don't think so. In fact, I think it's something else entirely different. I can't really explain but whenever I walk down the hallways of the hospital, I sometimes feel the people there have completely blinded themselves to my pain. That may sound like a wild accusation, but it's true. Because every time I try to talk to someone, they end up writing me off.

Take Carla for example. While she may at first "sit me on her lap" and listen to me, after a while, I see her attention waning, her dark eyes roll, and when she can't take anymore, she'll finally tell me I'm complaining too far too much. That I should learn to stand on my own two feet without someone holding my hand. However, what she doesn't seem to realize is that's_ exactly_ what I've been doing. I've _been_ standing on my own: I don't have a choice. And sure, it may sound like I'm complaining, but without someone to talk to regularly, what am I supposed to do?

Even Turk doesn't seem to have as much time for me as he used to. Ever since marrying Carla and having Izzy, he's been distracted constantly with what he likes to call his '_family matters_.' And when he _does_ finally make time for his Vanilla bear things don't always go so smoothly. Oh sure, he'll pull me aside, start with his traditional "hey man, what's bothering you?" But as soon as I begin to open up, he interrupts by adding in a comment of his own, to almost…._rival_….whatever it is that's bugging me. Though it irritates me a lot, I try to be the nice guy—as _usual_—and remain on task, attempting once again to lay my issues out on the table. But Turk just doesn't let up, and soon I find myself in yet another competition of "whose life sucks more." It's unbelievable. C-Bear knows I'm a sensi— I can't keep my feelings bottled up. But with him, even the most valuable topics to someone become a trivial competition. I know he wants to be the best at everything he does, but would it really hurt him that badly to just sit down with me and actually _listen _for a change?

As for Elliot….well, she's crazy enough without adding me to the mix, so I really don't think dumping my problems on her is currently the best idea.

Which leaves Dr. Cox. My role model, my self-appointed mentor….and the one who gives me more grief than anyone else in this damned hospital, with the exception of maybe the Janitor. That aside, when neither Turk or Carla are available—or I'm too fed up with them to keep trying—Dr. Cox is the only other person I feel I can really open up to….

….Ah, who am I kidding? He doesn't care; he doesn't want to be bothered just because his 'newbie' needs a shoulder to cry on. And even in those rare moments where I manage to snag his attention, all I end up receiving is a sharp tongue lashing—that I should be _happy _with my life. That I don't know what _real_ pain is.

Psh, yeah right.

I mean, sure, I may not have been physically abused as a kid, but that doesn't mean my childhood was any easier. And no, I don't live every day of my life putting up with the orders and demands of Sacred Heart so much so that I can't see my family as much as I'd like. That doesn't mean my life is any less miserable than his—in fact, sometimes I'd say it was _worse_. Okay, his dad was a drunk who'd use his kids as punching bags—can't ignore that, it's pretty bad—but at least he got to see his parents on a daily basis. And _yes_, the workload at the hospital is tough; at least he _can_ come home to his family every night. I hardly ever see my kid. And I hardly saw my parents. But of course, good ol' Perry Cox doesn't care. Never has. In fact, the only way I'd get him to pay any attention to me at all would be to curl up in a corner and _die_. And even then, he'd probably write something like: "Here lies Clarissa; loving friend, sister, mother and overall great gal" on my gravestone.

Argh, It's such a pain. And I don't mean that in a figurative way. I mean….it _hurts_. It really does. He mocks me, insults me….constantly refers to me as a girl….there's just no way he actually gives a damn about my well-being. No matter how much I may want it. Not him, not Carla….not even my best friend. They all seem too busy—to preoccupied with their lives to look my way. To realize I need their help.

And maybe….maybe _that's_ what scares me the most. Because I know if _they_ don't help me….rescue me from my melancholy….then I don't think anyone will. I know the kind of person I am. I don't open up to just anyone—friendly or not, it takes awhile for me to be comfortable enough to share my feelings. And if my friends ignore me….well….then there's really no one I can turn to. Not Kelso, not Ted…._certainly_ not the Janitor…. and I sure can't—nor will I—burden my patients by giving them the knowledge that their doctor is an emotional mess. There's no one….no one at all. Just me….myself….and I.

And if that's the case, then I….I wonder….

Will there come a time when my pain becomes too much to bear? Will there be a moment in the future when this fun-loving guy eventually stops smiling all together?

Will I eventually…._snap_?

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**So? SO? How was it????? I like it, personally. JD+angst is so much fun ******** In my opinion, anyone who acts as happy as he does MUST have something wrong with them that they're just not sharing. That, and angst always makes a character more interesting.**

**I'm thinking about writing a sequel—not a one-shot but an actual fic….but I'm not sure. I guess I'll just wait and see if anyone liked this one first.**

**NOTE: well, I've started the sequel to this!!!!! It's called "my accident, my son, my fault" and can be found on my profile!!!! **


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